


The Long Road to Recovery

by Thessalian



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:08:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26793391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thessalian/pseuds/Thessalian
Summary: After the events of All That Remains, Aveline and Varric concoct a plan to help Hawke through her grief ... slightly at Aveline's expense. (A slightly different take on The Long Road.)
Relationships: Donnic Hendyr/Aveline Vallen, Fenris/Female Hawke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	The Long Road to Recovery

Varric stared at his drinking companion across the table of his rooms at the Hanged Man, incredulous and more than a little amused. “I think my jaw just landed in the Deep Roads someplace. _You_ are coming to _me_ for relationship advice?”

Aveline sighed. Varric wasn’t her first choice for this sort of thing, but her first choice … well, Hawke wasn’t in any fit state right now, even if Aveline could bring herself to turn up at the Hawke estate. The guilt over what had happened to Leandra ate at Aveline; if she’d taken Emeric’s warnings more seriously to begin with, they might have stopped Quentin before he got to Leandra, at least. If not, at least it would have been Aveline and her guardsmen who saw the horror that Quentin had made of Hawke’s mother. It was one thing to hold your father’s hand while he was dying in a Denerim wasting ward, but quite another to hold your mother’s piecemeal-necromancy-altered body–

No. Aveline couldn’t think about that. Honestly, going to Varric about this was almost penance. Instead, she said, “Not _advice_ , exactly. I’m not an idiot, Varric. And I was married once. I’m fairly sure he’s interested. It’s just … nice to have the confirmation, is all. Not to mention that we’re both guardsmen. There might be … accusations and pointed fingers.”

Varric tutted. “Come on, Aveline. Everyone knows you’re as fair and just as they come.”

“Oh, do they now?” Aveline raised an eyebrow at her dwarven sometimes-comrade. “Consider my companions. The apostate in Darktown–”

That got a scoffing noise from Varric. “No one patrols Darktown. You’ve got plausible deniability. Besides, Lirene and company make a perfectly adequate smokescreen for your turning a blind eye there. Blondie’s the only one around who really does anything for the refugees and the poor. He heals people. We’d probably have plague coming out of Darktown if not for him. You’re providing a public service.”

“And the apostate in the Alienage?”

“Also plausible deniability. It’s the _Alienage_. And Daisy doesn’t exactly call attention to herself. Well,” Varric added in a brief moment of honesty and with no small amount of rue, “not as an apostate, anyway. At least I’m not having to pay protection money on her behalf anymore.”

Aveline sighed. “I suppose both of those things are technically Templar business anyway. And you’d just have a smart answer for Isabela and Fenris, if I brought them up. Not to mention _you_.”

“I am shocked and offended!” Varric didn’t sound in the least bit shocked or offended - just amused. “I am a perfectly legitimate businessman! Member in good standing of the Merchants’ Guild and everything! But you see my point,” he went on, getting back to business. “You look at every situation on its actual merits rather than being swayed by emotional considerations. Let’s face it; if you were motivated by feelings, you’d have turned Blondie over to the Templars about ten seconds after those cracks about ‘the secret desire demon and the acolyte’.”

“Don’t remind me. Especially not given Donnic.” Aveline sighed and stared into her mug. “This, by the way, is exactly why you were not my first choice for talking about this.”

Varric looked Aveline over for a moment, and his expression was a lot more sympathetic when he spoke again. “Still steering clear of Hawke, huh?”

“Not entirely. We went on a patrol, after … it happened. She wanted to go after those Dog Lord people who interrupted us while we were following Quentin’s trail.” Aveline sighed. “Not that a few minutes would have made any difference, in the end, but it probably made her feel better.”

Varric made a noise that was somewhere between a grunt and a growl. “That’s all well and good, Aveline, but what I’d really like is for someone to get a laugh out of her. Hell, even a smile would do. According to my sources, she hasn’t so much as cracked a smile since that whole mess.”

“That’s hardly surprising.” Aveline spoke mostly by rote, automatically saying the words that worked for the situation, but she didn’t really believe them. She remembered the trip to Kirkwall, after all; even crammed in a hold with so many other refugees, even with Carver’s death weighing on her mind, she’d kept a smile on her face and a joke on her lips. When Aveline, dealing with her own grief, had snapped at her about it, Hawke had gone serious and grim for a moment. _Everyone here is grieving, Aveline_ , she’d said. _If no one has a reminder that life goes on and that those we’ve lost would want better for us than eternal woe, why did we even bother?_ Remembering how Hawke had danced and sung in her Maker-be-damned awful voice and cracked jokes all throughout the trip, making it more bearable, Aveline understood how serious the situation was. “Your ‘sources’ said this?” Given her previous statement, it was the closest she could come to asking Varric if there hadn’t been even the tiniest smile, just once, just somewhere.

Varric shrugged. “Well, she hasn’t been seeing anyone much - just the elf, just once - but he’s been slipping me some coin to bribe her household help with. Won’t let me turn it down, either. After your little patrol in Lowtown, she didn’t leave her room for a week. If she smiled in there, it’d be a miracle.”

With a sigh, Aveline drained her mug of ale. “That’s not like her,” she said, not caring how much of her worry showed on her face or came out in her voice. “I’m not one to tell people how to grieve - I may have had words to that effect, when we were dealing with the Dog Lords - but there must be some way to bring her out of herself a little bit. Or at least encourage the process. It’s no more than she did for me,” she added, staring into her mug and feeling obscurely disappointed that it now stood empty.

“Well…” Varric refilled Aveline’s mug from the flagon on the table, but the gesture did nothing to hide the look of mischief and epiphany on his face. “I think I might have an idea about that.”

After reading his facial expression, Aveline gave Varric a wary look. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Look, you wanted relationship advice from Hawke. Let’s say you asked for it. In the most ridiculous way possible. Pull out all the stops; make it as awkward as possible. If that doesn’t get a smile out of her, I’m a nug. Plus, you work it right, and she feels like she helped you. You know that sort of thing always cheers Hawke up.”

Aveline sipped at her ale, thoughtful and a little worried. It might ruin her chances with Donnic, if she didn’t handle it right. Still … much as she cared for Donnic, Hawke had taken her in when she’d had no one; had stood by her when she was feeling her worst about Wesley. She owed Hawke no less. “I think I see your drift,” she said. “That sounds like a plan. _If_ you think you can pretend total ignorance about it. She’s smarter than both of us combined; you start with that grin of yours and she’ll figure it out in no time.”

“It sounds like you’re impugning my acting ability,” Varric said, albeit good-naturedly. “I’ll play along beautifully, you’ll see. Just … tell Donnic how you feel first. Let him in on it. Have it be your first couple’s activity. He owes her too, remember?”

“Just about everyone in Kirkwall does,” Aveline admitted with a small smile. Then she raised her mug to Varric. “To well-meaning mischief, I suppose.”

Varric chuckled. “The big bad guard-captain’s all grown up and making mischief like a professional! I’m so proud I might cry.”

* * *

**A few days later…**

Aveline watched, amused and proud and not a little smug, as Varric - face buried in one arm, banging his free fist on his table - laughed himself into breathlessness. “ _Goats_ , Aveline?”

“It’s a legitimate courting ritual in Ferelden!” As much as she tried, she couldn’t quite keep the laughter out of her voice, or the pride. “I was rather proud of the copper marigolds, myself.”

Varric finally raised his head, barely able to see Aveline through tears of mirth. “And that bit where Donnic said he thought _she_ was interested in him? That was _inspired_!”

Aveline blushed a little, and the pride in her voice became a bit more outward-directed as she admitted, “That was Donnic’s idea. I’m just glad Fenris didn’t take issue with it. I didn’t want to have to explain the ruse to more people than I had to.”

“Good point. The elf’s acting ability’s probably not up to it. But he knows Hawke would never go after someone you wanted, so good call on Donnic’s part.” Now that his breathing was finally under control, Varric straightened up and reached for his ale mug, grateful that he hadn’t tipped it over during his long-stifled laughing fit. “Still, it definitely worked. I haven’t seen Hawke so amused in awhile.”

“She was so happy to have helped. I almost felt bad about deceiving her about that part.”

Varric shook his head. “Thing is, you didn’t. Or are you really telling me you’d have approached Donnic so easily if you hadn’t had that plan in mind?”

After a long moment’s thought, Aveline nodded acknowledgement. “Perhaps a little embarrassing, that whole thing, given that everyone else had to believe that I was that awkward about courting someone … but it was in a good cause. I think my pride can take it.”

“And Hawke’s on the road to recovery, which is all we can ask for.” Varric raised his mug. “Here’s to us.”

Aveline raised her own, and replied with an old soldier’s rallying cry: “Who’s like us?”

Varric, who’d heard that one, grinned and said, “Thankfully not too many people. I don’t think Kirkwall could take it.”

They tapped mugs, then drank. They might never see eye to eye, figuratively or literally, but Hawke had a way of bringing people together.


End file.
